the light fades so quickly now
by shadowinthedark13
Summary: "Maka's eyes are shut and it's probably the only peaceful thing about her." Maka/Soul


**Rating/Warnings: **T

**Word Count: **2, 765

**Pairing(s):** Maka/Soul

**Summary:** Maka's eyes are shut and that's probably the only peaceful thing about her.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Notes: **I started writing this after watching the Vow a few weeks ago, but never finished it until the other day. The scenes are supposed to be in the order that they are, in case anyone wanted to complain.

* * *

**three**

Maka's eyes are shut and that's probably the only peaceful thing about her.

The bandages covering her forehead are too white against the black and purple bruises on her cheeks and jaw. It makes Soul's chest ache where the witch had cut over his scar but he tries not to worry about it. Because it's been three weeks and she's still not up. She's still not awake, _and that's not good._

He notices Stein pass by the room, peeking in quickly to see how she's doing before making his way back down the hall. Soul remembers the way Stein had said she _may_ wake up; how she _may_ be different. And it scares Soul to death because this is his entire fault. If he'd been paying attention, not fucking around and allowing his hormones to get in the way, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess.

Maka's engagement ring is heavy and cold in his pocket, a reminder of his mistakes. It's been four goddamn years since they'd fucked up a mission and now with one mistake she could—

Soul makes his way around the bed, dropping heavily into the chair beside her bed and reaching for her hand, clutching it in his larger one. She has cuts on them from holding her hands in front of while she was being thrown repeatedly against that fucking wall.

"You-," he stops, sucking in a breath between his teeth. It feels like he's at her deathbed, begging someone who was dying to hold on. "Just…wake up soon, got it? Blair really misses you. I don't cuddle and spoil her like you do." His voice cracks like it hasn't since he'd been fifteen.

"I love you, Maka," he says, laying her hand back down and slouching forward, dropping his head into his hands.

* * *

The whiskey feels awful going down, and Soul's sure it'll feel just as awful coming back up later. Beside him, Black Star is nursing a beer and watching the hockey game intently.

At intermission, the blue haired man looks over at his friend, raising an eyebrow at the way Soul tosses back shot after shot. "Dude, you better slow down, 'cuz I ain't carrying your drunk ass home."

Soul ignores him in favor of picking at the bar's wooden surface. His friend lets out a low sigh, brows furrowing as he watches his usually cool friend act so uncharacteristic. "Dude—"

"If she dies," Soul swallows thickly, wiping at his face with a heavy hand. "It'll be my fault."

"Hey, Soul, that's not true-!"

The man looks at Black Star, eyes bright, lips drawn in a scowl. "'Star, I can't lose her."

It takes a few moments, but Black Star claps his friend on the back, rubbing at the sore muscles. "I know, buddy."

* * *

He's there when she wakes up and so are Tsubaki and the nurse. Soul vaguely remembers her name. It might he Beth but it might be Brittany. He doesn't know. All he knows it Maka's eyes are opening and she's wincing at the bright light in the room.

She raises a shaking hand to her forehead, touching the cut there gingerly. It's nearly healed now, just a few small scabs. "My head _hurts."_ Maka's green eyes rise to meet Kim's, and the nurse nods, making her way to Maka's bedside.

Beth-Brittany speaks to Maka while Soul and Tsubaki watch, the latter's eyes watering. Soul's own are wet and bright, and his heart feels like it might just beat out of his chest.

While the nurse checks on Maka's blood pressure and her heart, Soul leans forward, hands braced on the bar at the end of her bed. "Maka?"

The blonde turns slightly, eyes hooded, mouth curled in a grimace. She stares at him for a moment, taking him in, but something's wrong. Something is—

"Who…who are you?"

Tsubaki sobs and Soul's heart cracks.

* * *

**six**

"S-Soul?"

The man in question peeks around the corner. He's pretty sure she's calling him from the bathroom. "Yeah?"

The door to the bathroom opens slightly, just enough to let steam through. "I um. Forgot a towel. Would you mind bringing me one, please?"

He wipes his hands on his shorts quickly, and makes his way to the closet just outside the bathroom that holds their towels, face cloths, and linens. Soul wonders why she didn't slip out of the bathroom and grab one for herself. He's been busy heating up leftover spaghetti, so he probably wouldn't have even noticed...

The door is still cracked open and Soul can see Maka's dark, damp hair hanging over a pale shoulder. He sees a pink, shiny scar there. He knows it reaches up over the shoulder and down her side.

Maka is staring at him, watching his every movement like he's a potential threat, or maybe she's checking him out, but Soul doubts that. She still locks her bedroom door at night, much to his annoyance.

Her cheeks are pink when she opens the door wider, reaching for the towel. "Thanks. I'll—I won't forget next time."

"Don't worry about it," Soul murmurs, fingers burning from where they'd brushed hers. His heart aches all over again.

* * *

**four**

"This is where I—_we—_," She doesn't look at him when she says it, only stares around the room. Blair greets her with a small, cautious wave, her assets thankfully covered. He'd called her before they came, telling her what was going on. She'd cried a little, and even now, as she stares at Maka with those big yellow eyes, Soul can see tears in them.

"This is our home?" Maka turns to him, eyes darting to the coat hook that holds her black trenchcoat. "Hey, I remember that. Mama bought me it when I told her I was going to go to the DWMA." She walks toward it, petting the worn material.

Soul gives Blair a look, and she understands, giving him a sad smile and announcing that she's got to head to work, but she'll be back in the morning. "G—goodnight, Maka."

Maka doesn't acknowledge her. Instead, Soul's meister is staring at the pictures around their living room. Some with the two of them, with their friends and her father. He notices the way she traces over Black Star's face, eyebrows crinkling. "He changed a lot, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Soul whispers, dropping her bags to the ground. He shoves his hands into his pockets, fingering the ring in there. He wants to give it to her, wants her to remember that they were together and that he loves her and that they're supposed to be getting _married_ next October but he doesn't…doesn't want to pressure her.

She steps away from the photobooth picture of the two of them, casting him a glance before setting her jaw. "I think. I think I'm going to try and sleep."

Soul wants to yell, scream, beg her to remember, shake her until she does, but he can't, so he just nods and wishes her sweet dreams.

* * *

**one**

"Liz and Tsubaki and Patti are going to come with me to get my dress in a month or so," Maka pulls herself closer to him, tightening her grip on his hand. The casinos and clubs around them are bright and loud, and all she wants to do is crawl into her bed at the hotel and maybe—

Soul tugs on her hand, pulling her into a dimly lit alley. "I can't wait to see you in it," he grins, eyes glistening. Maka likes that look on him. The smile, his eyes. He seems at ease, happy.

She flushes when his hand creeps up under her skirt, snapping her nylons against her thigh. "Also, I think I like the mini skirt more than these high-wasted ones. Easier to get into." Soul kisses her quickly, her head snapping back and bumping off the wall. She doesn't care and ignores the small sting of pain. Her arms rise to wrap around his neck and pull him closer, and Soul tugs her leg until it's wrapped around his waist.

"Mmm," she breathes, biting her lip at the feeling of his jeans against her crotch. She can feel him straining against them, and her heart speeds up. "Hope you have condoms, lover boy."

"Wha…oh. Yes, condoms. That's me: always prepared," he grins again, this time attacking her neck and pushing her jacket down her shoulder.

They don't see the witch until she's on top of them, her unbelievably strong hands tearing Soul away and tossing him against the opposite wall of the alley like trash. Maka hears him moan, but hardly has any time to react before her face is cracking against the brick. Blood spurts from her nose, and Maka can taste it in her mouth, too.

She kicks backward, managing to hit the witch's knee, and hears a long howl, strangled curses flying from the witch's mouth. Maka doesn't understand what's happening or—or—

"_Soul Eater!"_ She yells, holding her hand out. Maka can hardly see anything, blood falling into her eyes, and then she's being kicked in the stomach with a heel, and Soul is trying to fight against three thugs.

"Who the—_hell_-," Maka spits blood from her mouth, wiping her nose. "_are you?"_

"The one who will kill the _great Maka Albarn,"_ she kicks Maka again, fisting her hand into the meisters hair and slamming her face against the brick once more. The witch's face twists, almost animalistic, and the noises coming from the thugs Soul is fighting against sound like wolves. She thinks Soul is yelling, but she can't remember. Can't—can't think and—

* * *

**nine**

Soul transforms into a scythe and Maka burns her hands.

It only takes one scream from her before he's transforming back, scrambling forward to grab at her, "Maka, are you alright?"

The panic in her eyes terrifies him, but he doesn't let it show. He squats a few feet away from her, eyes hard and blank. She swallows and clutches her hands to her chest. "Why—why didn't it work? If I'm your partner it should have worked-!"

"You're unsure of yourself," Soul murmurs. It's been…what? Four months? And she still doesn't remember anything, at least not about him, anyway. He knows that she remembers times where she had sleepovers with Liz and Patti, or trained with Black Star and Kid at meister-only trips, or cooked with Tsubaki, but there is nothing about him. Only that he's her weapon and that she made him a deathscythe. It irritates him beyond belief, but he can't be angry with her. He's tried to, but he can't. Fuck, he'd even ask for a Maka Chop, but she hasn't chopped anyone since she's woken up.

Her mouth and eyes harden, and she stands, turning her back to him and marching down the hallway. "Maybe you're the one that's unsure, Soul."

* * *

**five**

He remembers when his nightmares would get so terribly bad that she'd have to stay up at night and massage the tension from his shoulders and calm him down. How he's almost impaled her when he'd accidentally changed his arm into a scythe, trying to defend himself against unknown assailants. Now, when his nightmares occur, he wakes to the TV on mute and a blanket thrown across him while she sleeps in their bedroom on _their_ bed, safe under those covers. And he wanted nothing more than to slip in next to her and inhale that calming, safe smell that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

And he _had_ done it the first week she'd stayed in the apartment again. She'd been terrified, screaming at the top of her lungs, and Soul hadn't known what to do.

He doesn't know what to do about anything anymore.

* * *

**two**

Black Star brings him a soul one day while he's sitting at Maka's bedside. Soul didn't really understand what the assassin was doing, but he said, "It's that witch's, Soul," and the deathscythe made sure to chew especially well.

* * *

**eight**

"I must have loved you a lot," She says as he walks into the apartment, his suit coat hanging over his shoulder. He tosses it on the coat rack but stays at the door, watches the way Maka traces over their faces. "I _know_ I loved you a lot, Soul. But I can't remember. And I'm trying, I really, really am because I _want to-!"_

Soul is there in an instant, thumbing away tears that drip down her cheeks. "Maka, don't cry. It's not cool to cry—"

She kisses him then, nothing more than a peck, but a kiss at least, and Soul leans into it, missing her so much that he forgets about everything, and then he's putting more pressure and trying to make it last longer but—

"I'm so sorry," she said and kissed him again. "I'm sorry I can't remember. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He pulls away, holding her face away from him, watching her sad eyes stare back at his red ones. "Don't-," Soul cleared his throat and licked his lips. "Don't do this because you're sorry, Maka. Or because you feel guilty."

She says nothing, just stares at him with bright eyes.

_I can't do this,_ he wants to say, but he manages a small smirk instead and walks to the washroom.

* * *

**eleven**

He's woken up by someone sitting on the edge of the couch, right in front of his stomach. Soul cracks an eye open, wondering if it's Blair, but is surprised to find Maka instead. She's watching him with a small smile on her face, and as he goes to sit up, she holds up her hand.

"I found this when I was cleaning the bedroom today. It's mine, isn't it? You wear one too."

He glances at the ring in her hand, and then down at his hand and nods. "Yeah, I proposed in August." His mouth feels like it's filled with cotton, but he knows it's not from sleep.

"It's very beautiful," she says after a few moments, twisting it around in her hand.

"Yeah," he nods, swallowing thickly. Soul moves to sit up, giving her more room, but stops when she speaks again.

"In the end the shape and form don't matter at all. It's only the soul that matters, right? Nothing else. You—you told me that once."

His heart nearly stops beating, and he leans forward, grabbing at her shoulder. "Maka, do you-?"

"Bits and pieces," she smiles wiping at her teary eyes. "A lot of the big stuff, I think. But not the…the proposal."

"That's okay," he breathes, inhaling her familiar smell. It's so _Maka_ that he wants to cry. "It's fine. I fucked it up, anyway."

And he did. He'd had it all prepared and thought out in his head, but then Lord Death had needed the team for a mission and Soul was annoyed with that. And then it was one of those missions where "the likelihood of death is very possible," and Soul had just blurted it out.

He takes it from her fingers now, the platinum gold cold against his hands, and grabs her hand. "Don't do that again, okay Maka?"

And then they're both crying, kissing the wetness from each other's lips and skin, holding tight and she says, "god, I promise," in his ear.

* * *

**fifteen**

The dress is stunning, Soul thinks, hands tight around Maka as they sway to the song he's picked out. It's a simple piece, something he and his brother had composed and recorded together, and even now, as he watched Wes take hold of Liz's hand and tug her onto the dance floor, he's happy that they'd reconciled.

Maka grins bright, leaning forward to kiss him, laughing at the cheers and catcalls that go up in the large hall. "Don't look so glum, chum," she tells him, pinching him through the fabric of his dress coat. "This is our _wedding."_

"I know," he says, dipping her and laughing at the expression she has, mouth open, then a scowl, then a laugh. "I'm not _glum,_ I'm just…happy."

She lets out a laugh, tipping her head back. "Okay, Soul." Maka presses close and Soul resists the urge to crush her to him, to not let her father, who is walking toward them, dance with her, because he doesn't want to let her go. "I love you, you know that?"

"Well you're only human." He snorts, kissing her jaw and pulling away reluctantly. "But I love you too."

Maka flips her hair over her shoulder, winking and going to meet her father half-way.


End file.
